The Thief.

No one believes me when I tell this story. I figured I would start with a date that happened long enough ago that we probably aren't Facebook friends. Oh but don't fret. I'll get to you guys too.

Let me back track first. I've had serious relationships. A couple. But for the past 2 years I've become a serial dater. I've either found something completely wrong with the people I've dated or managed to make them think that I need some sort of psychiatric help. But in between all that, there are stories that you wouldn't believe. It makes me think that there couldn't possibly be a decent guy out there. Or maybe, I just haven't been ready to meet the "good" guy. Who knows. We'll get to that. Don't worry. For now, here's Mr. Pickpocket.



I met a guy on the train in downtown Chicago once. Tall, light skin (I'm so over light skin) handsome, trendy dresser. You know typical Chicago. I was on my way from class and was in a pretty good mood. So I felt like he should have my information. Back then it was Blackplanet not Facebook and AIM was the preferred IM method, I believe. At any rate, he hits me up that night and suggests the next day we meet up. He had all his teeth, no false legs, clearly wasn't on house arrest so I figured, why not?

Well, I've been around the block a few times and decided that the first date should be at Barnes & Nobles. You know upstairs at the cafe. This way, I could be there early, start my homework, get a good look at him outside of the train lights and be in a public setting. Seems normal right?

So I'm sitting at one of those bar window seats minding my business when Mr. Lightskin walks up.

"Sup"? He hugs me.

I'm already turned off. At that point in my life personal touching by strangers made me uncomfortable. We're only on day 2 buddy.

At any rate, he sits next to me and we chat it up. Okay, this guy is pretty funny. Not too stupid. Quick on his feet. Okay, Okay. Not so bad. Now. My jacket and my bookbag are hanging from my chair. When I left the house. I stopped at the ATM for $40. I bought carfare, some lunch and some gum. The change I threw in the pocket section of my bag. I know it was there at B&N, because I checked to make sure I had it for carfare home.

Okay, so train boy has become boring and I'd like to retreat back to the burbs. I do that long, "Weeeeellll, I'm gonna get out of here," speech and he proceeds to tell me how great I am. "Thanks," and I mention how I'm going to stop at the restroom first.

Now I know you're going to ask me did I take my bag. Nope. I figured it was safe on the chair with him sitting there.

I come from the bathroom, and he's all set and ready to walk me to the Red Line. He puts my jacket on for me (Okay, okay, so he's a gentlemen). We get outside and bid our farewells. He hugs me again. I'm over it. Maybe.

I walk along like, well that wasn't so bad. I'm feeling pretty good about the whole thing, like this guy could possibly work. I walked down the stairs to the train. Look in my bag to get the money I know is there. FML. The damn thing is empty.

"Scuse me, Mr. Trainman, can you please let me though"???

It all begins here. 365.